In Defence of Ceasing
by isaytoodlepip
Summary: Originally written in 2004 as response to this challenge: "Harry's got amnesia, and Snape takes the opportunity to…redefine…their relationship."  HPSS and, considering the date, AU. Warning: off-screen sexual violence.


**Title**: In Defense of Ceasing

**Pairing**: HP/SS

**Author's Note**: I wrote this story in 2004 (under the pen name Tubesox) as response to this challenge: "Harry's got amnesia, and Snape takes the opportunity to…redefine…their relationship." What came out was much darker than I'd anticipated. This story is post-OOTP, mentions of violence and rape. Passages in italics are flashbacks, while passages in brackets are dreams. Please bare in mind the composition date of this story – it is so dated now that it is AU. Now, on with the fic!

"Remember," Harry had whispered, just before it all went to hell. "Remember this, whatever happens. I love you."

Severus didn't know why he listened to the boy, but he had. He remembered. Everything. Even though Harry, through no fault of his own, had forgotten.

…ooo…ooo…

"Harry? Harry, you can wake up. Harry."

Harry opened his eyes to the brilliant lights of St. Mungo's most secured ward. He instinctively put his hands to his face, and felt the gauze wrapped around his brow. He made some plaintive noise and a young woman handed him a glass of water.

"Hermione?" he asked after he took a sip. He couldn't believe the sight before him. Hermione looked…old. Or, older. How long had he slept?

"It's ok, Harry," she smiled, eyes shining with tears. "You're safe now."

"It's over?" Harry asked. He couldn't remember…anything. He only knew that, the last time he'd seen her, Hermione was 18. Now, she looked closer to thirty.

"Yes, the war's over," Hermione answered. Her voice was deeper too.

"What happened?" Harry asked, scared now that he could see her face more clearly, the scars on her cheek.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

…ooo…ooo…

_It was five months after they had finished Hogwarts, and Harry and his friends were heading to Three Broomsticks after yet another funeral. Neville Longbottom this time, and it was a loss that demanded a long pissing session at the local pub. Harry, Ron and Hermione were all living at Hogwarts, waiting for the end. It wasn't safe for Harry to leave the wards of the castle for too long, and, true to form, his closest friends had stayed by his side. _

"_I can't believe he's gone," Hermione whispered, voice hoarse from crying._

"_I know," Ron agreed. _

"_It could have been me," Harry answered, numb. "One choice, and that could have been my life."_

_None of them had the will to say that there was a good chance the next funeral would be his. _

_Suddenly, there was a pressure on their skins, a blast of wind and heat, and screaming. People were flooding the streets of Hogsmeade, and Ron and Hermione were pulling at his sleeves, but Harry was gone before he had time to think, time to breathe. _

…ooo…ooo…

"Neville's funeral," Harry answered.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione sighed.

"How…how long was I away?" Harry asked, only just beginning to realize what had happened.

"You were missing for two years. Two years, three months and 18 days."

…ooo…ooo…

_Harry had been alone in his cell for five weeks before the door opened. He'd been well treated, as far as necessities go. A plate of food was magicked into his cell once a day, and there was a wash basin with running water in the corner. There were no taunts, no beatings. No torture, except the cold and the damp and the solitude. The silence, and the not knowing what was happening to his loved ones, to his whole world. He didn't know why he was being spared. It made no sense, that Voldemort had dedicated the early years of his return to power to killing Harry, only to lock him away in the end. The only reason for it, that Harry could see, was that the bastard was too afraid that, if it came to a duel, he would lose._

_So Harry had sat there alone for more than a month, until one night, the door opened and another dark figure was pushed into his cell. Harry could smell blood, and, after a few moments of quiet caution, he approached the body, guided by the heavy gasps for breath. There was no artificial lighting in his prison, and he could not appreciate the other man's injuries. All he could do was feel around for open wounds, rip at the end of the man's robes, and clumsily tie tourniquets just above the places where he felt the most blood. _

…ooo…ooo…

"Tell me what happened," Harry calmly ordered Hermione after she returned to his room. He'd asked her to leave so he could collect himself, and she agreed, only because she wanted to consult the mediwizard in charge of his case about his memory loss.

"You were captured. Though we didn't know that at the time. We…we assumed you'd been killed. But a year ago, we received intelligence that you were alive, that you and Professor Snape were being held at one of Voldemort's bases. It took us this long to find which one, and to come up with a plan to get you both out unharmed. Albus knew that we wouldn't be given the chance to let you recuperate. That rescuing you would force Voldemort's hand. So your rescue was delayed a few more weeks while we planned for the final strike. Nine days ago, a team led by Remus Lupin got you and Professor Snape out of a cell in Yorkshire. Then you were transported to Cornwall, where you…you did it."

"I killed Voldemort?"

"Yes," Hermione smiled. So it had only been two years. Judging by her face, those were the longest two years in history.

"Who did we lose?"

Her eyes shuttered as she recited the list. Dumbledore. Tonks. Flitwick. Colin. Parvati. Luna. Ron.

Harry had known that this would happen, but that didn't make it any easier. Burying his face in his hands again, he was reminded of his injury.

"Why can't I remember?"

"The doctors aren't sure," Hermione huffed, clearly exasperated by the lack of knowledge. "We think Voldemort cast the Killing Curse on you again, and you were hit with a few other hexes, any combination of which could have caused head trauma. They can't tell us if you'll regain your memories or not."

"Maybe it's better I forget," Harry answered lightly. "Two years in the same room as Snape? Where is he anyway?"

"At Hogwarts. He was injured too, nearly lost his leg, but he refused to come here for treatment."

"I don't blame him," Harry muttered. "Let's go home."

…ooo…ooo…

Severus had, indeed, nearly lost his leg. As it was, he'd have a limp the rest of his life. As he walked to his old dungeon quarters, he cursed the soft sweeping sound his right foot made against the stone floor. No more sneaking up on wayward students. That is, if he continued to teach. At the moment, all he cared about was getting back to his rooms, which had been redecorated with his things during his convalescence, and digging out the biggest bottle of port he owned. Years ago, the prospect of returning to his solitary life would have been comforting, especially without the constant threat of Voldemort facing him. But now, after Harry, he couldn't see how he could survive it.

Pouring himself a drink and lying down on his sofa, Severus tried to forget the last two years of his life, just as he was trying to forget the look of softened animosity on Harry's face when they had briefly crossed paths in the Hospital Wing that morning. It was, of course, impossible.

…ooo…ooo…

_Severus had woken that morning after his capture to the sound of Harry Potter's voice. Harry Potter, whom everyone had presumed dead._

"_Professor Snape? Can you hear me?" the boy was asking._

"_Potter?" Severus had asked, inanely. But he was hemorrhaging in three different places and decided that it was a good enough excuse. Besides, he was a spy no longer. He did not have to be so careful with his words._

"_I think you'll be alright," Potter said. "These cuts are deep but the bleeding's stopped. The burn on your arm is bad. I'll try to wash it out the best I can."_

"_You're not hurt?" Severus asked._

"_No, no, they treat me fine. Little light on the hospitality, but you always said I was too spoiled," Harry laughed, humorlessly. _

…ooo…ooo…

After three weeks living together, bickering about "house rules", throwing about blame and taunts and, once, blows, they discovered the reason Severus was still alive and not in one of the mass graves that inevitably surrounded any stronghold Voldemort inhabited for long. That afternoon, three masked Death Eaters had entered their cell, immobilized them, and approached. Seeing the shortest of the men reach into the folds of his robe, Severus was certain that it was the end. But it was only a pair of scissors, which were used to cut a sizable lock of hair from his head.

"You should just use your hands," one of the Death Eaters had advised. "It's best with the follicle still attached."

The Death Eater grabbed a chunk of hair and tugged hard. Severus was powerless to stop his eyes from watering, and the Death Eaters left laughing, removing the spell just before slamming the door shut.

It had been the first thing Severus had asked Hermione after the battle, after he was certain Harry had survived. "How long did it take you to figure out that he was an imposter?" It was one of his biggest fears, when he was shut from the outside world. That no one would have noticed that a monster had taken his place.

"Dumbledore spotted it that very day," Hermione had answered, smiling gently. "No one let on that we knew about the change. The Death Eater that was using Polyjuice, Lawrence was his name, had to give us information still, in his position as Order spy, and that was of some use, when it was accurate. We kept him in on minimum security meetings for a year and a half before we finally had to 'discover him'. After that…I'm not sure why they kept you alive."

"Maybe they forgot," he said to himself now, setting aside his empty bottle and falling into an uneasy sleep, plagued with dreams of a life he would no longer have, if it had truly ever been his.

…ooo…ooo…

Severus woke up in his dungeons the next morning, wincing at the pain in his leg and searching for the source of noise that had dragged him away from a dream of Harry.

…ooo…ooo…

[Small hands clutched tightly at his robes, at his shoulders, around his arm, and a sweeter tightness held him, hot and smooth and so welcoming it made him cry out. Shh, they'll hear. But they were probably watching them, and they both knew it, and maybe it made them hurry too often, made them refuse, in the beginning, to say the words. I love you. You can't, you don't even know. But he knew, and he'd say it every day and it would be returned to him. I love you, too. God, Harry, please, I love you. Love you. Pale, velvet and hard, his chest under his hands, sweat making the journey easy. The up and down of breath. That tickles. I know. A laugh, not as shrill as he always expected, every time. A deep, quiet, throaty laugh. A grown man's laugh, and it was not the only one in the cell, those idyllic months when they were 'we'. Earthy smell in his nose, buried as it was at the nape of his neck, his favorite corner of home. Feather-soft hairs there, feather-soft skin, the perfect fit for his face when he hugged from behind, something they did for hours of the day, Harry staring at the window, the light and the bars, but that was all that could be seen. And all he could see was his lover's clavicle.

…ooo…ooo…

"Severus?" Poppy was calling from the fireplace.

"What is it?" he asked gruffly.

"You were supposed to come to my office, so I can dress the wounds and give you your potion," Poppy sighed.

"I'm perfectly capable of -,"

"Severus Snape, come to the infirmary immediately if you don't want to find yourself on the secure ward of St. Mungo's," Poppy snapped, before disappearing from his fireplace.

Sighing, Severus rose, showered, and made his slow way up to the Hospital Wing, stopping short just through the doorway upon seeing Harry there, sitting up in a hospital cot, and staring at him with eyes two years too young.

"Professor Snape," he greeted with a formality that stung.

"Harry," Severus answered neutrally, aware moments too late at his mistake in using the young man's given name. Harry looked confused, embarrassed, and maybe even a little bit angry at the presumption.

"Severus," Poppy interrupted, grabbing him by the elbow and steering him towards the next empty bed. "How does it feel this morning?"

"The same," he answered distractedly, still staring into the eyes of his…of Harry. Poppy left to gather some medicinal potions from the store room, leaving the two of them alone together, again. After a few moments of awkward silence, Harry mustered up some of that Gryffindor courage and spoke.

"I want to thank you for…for whatever you did to keep us alive those years," he stammered, his voice rougher than Severus had remembered. It was amazing how a few days could change so much. How they could erase so much.

"How do you know I did anything, Potter?" Severus asked, willing himself to sound just as cold and detached as Harry expected him to be. Whether it was the right thing or not, Severus had decided to let himself be forgotten. He told himself that it would be easier, and who would believe him besides? So what if he loved the boy? He'd always known it couldn't last. And it hadn't.

"I don't really but…there must have been something. Right? Some reason we're still here?"

"Luck."

"Good luck then."

"Hmm."

"What did we do? I mean, what did we talk about the whole time?"

…ooo…ooo…

"_Oh, come on, you must remember something!"_

"_Do you?"_

"_Well…no, but I never really…you know that all I cared about was Quidditch and not looking like a complete idiot all the time."_

"_Yet another failing, I see."_

"_Oh, sod off."_

"_You never read anything before you came to Hogwarts?"_

"_Well, yeah. School stuff. Nothing I could recite though. Aren't you bored? God, I'm bored."_

"_How could I be bored, in your stimulating company?"_

"_At least we're finally talking."_

"_You call this progress?"_

"_Yes. I probably would have started talking to myself if you hadn't condescended to speak to me."_

"_Yes, that would have been even more inane than this conversation."_

"_Well, I'm sure as hell not going to unburden my soul to you, or whatever it is. And I doubt you're interested in me summarizing the few television shows I've seen, or reciting lyrics to Muggle pop songs."_

"_Some people are capable of original thought, Potter."_

"_Fine. Be original. Just talk to me or I'll give you a play by play of the Quidditch World Cup final, or tell you about the time I walked in on Ron and Hermione, going at it like –."_

"_That's enough. Fine. The properties of –."_

"_Oh no you don't, no potions. Just, I don't know. Where are you from?"_

"_Cambridge."_

"_Your parents?"_

"_Dead."_

"_I'm sorry."_

"_Hmm."_

"_Um…pets?"_

"_I had an owl. And a turtle, when I was young."_

"_A turtle?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Sorry but…I wouldn't have guessed."_

"_Clearly."_

"_Do witches and wizards ever have dogs? Not three-headed dogs, normal dogs?"_

"_As often as Muggles do, I imagine. Why?"_

"_Just wondering. It was all cats, rats, toads and owls at school."_

"_Easier to maintain."_

"_Right. Right." _

…ooo…ooo…

"Professor?"

"We talked, Potter. I'm sure you can imagine the quality of our conversations."

"Oh. That bad?"

"Hmm."

…ooo…ooo…

"_God. Fuck!"_

"_It's ok. Breathe."_

"_I am, it's just…huh."_

"_You're laughing."_

"_You feel good. It's not that I'm surprised…but I am, a little."_

"_Do you want to stop."_

"_God, no. Can you…can you kiss me there again?"_

"_You'll have to be more specific, Harry. I've had my mouth on you for hours."_

"_Oh, I know. Believe me, I remember. Just, just there. When you licked my neck."_

"_That?"_

"_Yesss. Mmm. How can you be so still? So..calm?"_

"_You learn control with age."_

"_I'm not sure I like the sound of that. What if I do this?"_

"_God!"_

"_Yes?"_

"_Fine, you want it like this, you better hold on tighter to the bed."_

"_Oh. Oh, Severus, Sev. Fuck."_

…ooo…ooo…

"Were we friends, at all?" Harry asked. He'd seen the concern in the older man's eyes, when he'd first seen him after returning to Hogwarts.

Severus was going to answer, No, of course not. He was going to scoff, ask Potter what could possibly suggest that they could ever be friends. But, when it came to it, with Harry staring at him, with Poppy coming back into the room, with his heart pounding in his chest like a madman begging to be saved, Severus couldn't do it. The only thing he could do was stare at the floor while the nurse dressed his wound and gave him his potion, and then leave. Harry might have called out to him, but it might have only been the sound of desperate hope. Either way, he kept walking, or limping rather, back to his room, where he ignored his own standards and poured himself a drink. Damning every living thing around him, and quite a few dead enemies and friends as well, Severus sat at his desk, and did what Harry was incapable of. He remembered.

…ooo…ooo…

_// WEEK 7_

"_I'll trade you my carrots for you're last potato."_

"_You need to eat your vegetables, Potter. Help me, I sound like Thisby."_

"_Thisby?"_

"_My house elf, when I was younger."_

"_Didn't like your greens when you were a kid?"_

"_Get that imbecilic grin off your face."_

"_Or you'll knock it off?"_

"_Here, I was done anyway, but still eat your carrots."_

"_Thanks."_

_WEEK 11_

"_You've been sighing and huffing and pacing and being a general nuisance for an hour now, Potter. Either tell me what's on your mind or sit down and shut up."_

"_Fine! Fine. Just…you know, I'm eighteen years old and we've been here for years -,"_

"_Months."_

"_Whatever. I…will you just go to the corner and cover your ears for ten minutes or something while I wank?"_

"_That's your crisis? Merlin, Potter, we've been shitting in front of each other all this time. I thought we were beyond the stage in our relationship where we're still embarrassed by bodily functions."_

"_It's different and you know it. Some things are necessary and some - ,"_

"_I was under the impression that you brought your relatively young age into this argument to demonstrate that onanism __is__ necessary."_

"_Onanism?"_

"_Polite term for seed-spilling."_

"_Oh."_

"_Yes. By all means, go ahead. I'll not stop you."_

"_I…are you just going to stand there?"_

"_I'm certainly not going to help."_

"_Well…no, but I can't…with you watching. Or hearing. Or even thinking about it."_

"_Voyeurism doesn't do it for you?"_

"_Just close your eyes, cover your ears, and shut up."_

_WEEK 53_

"_I've gotten taller."_

"_I'd noticed. Your ankles are showing."_

"_You don't look so intimidating now."_

"_I think that might have little to do with your belated growth spurt."_

"_No. Hearing you snore at night pretty much did it."_

"_I don't snore."_

"_You do. Repeatedly."_

"_And you jerk off. Repeatedly."_

"_Well…yeah. But I doubt I've lost any standing in your book for __**that**__."_

"_No, but thinking about…"_

"_You…you bastard! You promised you wouldn't!"_

"_Calm yourself, Potter. I was being facetious."_

"_Oh, you're a laugh a minute, you are."_

"_Don't sulk."_

"_You'd probably die from shock if you really knew who I thought about, anyway."_

"_Then by all means, tell me. Anything to get out of this conversation."_

"_No, no one shall be spared."_

_WEEK 67_

"_Shove over, I'm going to do a cartwheel."_

"_A what?"_

"_A…tumble. You know, hands on the floor, feet in the air, generally making a fool of myself when I lose balance and fall over. A cartwheel."_

"_Ah. Dinner theater."_

"_Be quiet and move over. I haven't tried one since I was eight and I'm sure I haven't gotten any better."_

"_Explain to me __**why**__ you're attempting this gymnastic feat?"_

"_I'm bored again, why else? Plus, exercise. Work off nervous energy."_

"_I thought that's what we did this morning?"_

"_Such a romantic. Ok, here I go. You have permission to laugh."_

"_Since when have I needed permission?"_

"_Since you stuck your - ,"_

"_Fine, fine. No need to be vulgar. Go ahead. I'm waiting with baited breath."_

"_Ow. Shit."_

"_Was that it?"_

"_No. I have it in me to be graceful, I'm sure. Hold on. Maybe if I…oww."_

"_You need to stop flailing your legs around."_

"_You try it, if you think it's so easy."_

"…_Fuck. I don't recall giving you permission to laugh."_

"_Oh, come on."_

"_You tell anyone, you die."_

"_Damn, and I was going to tell Voldy that you're shit at cartwheels, try to bribe my way out of here by working as court jester."_

"_Move over, I'm trying again. … Fuck."_

_WEEK 82_

"_You really had a turtle?"_

"_I fail to see why this is such a source of amusement to you."_

"_Hey, you laugh every time I tell about blowing up Marge."_

"_Yes, but that's actually funny. This is a turtle we're talking about. A boy with a pet is not an uncommon occurrence."_

"_It's just __**you**__ with a turtle that's funny."_

"_Hmm."_

"_When we get out of here, we'll get a dog, a real pet."_

"_No, no dogs."_

"_Sirius?"_

"_Allergies."_

"_Oh. Well, that explains the animosity."_

"_Large word for so early in the day."_

"_Fuck off. Can't you make a potion for your allergy?"_

"_Of course I can, but I don't see I should be inconvenienced for your pleasure."_

"_Really? You can't see that?"_

"_No."_

"_Ah. Well, if that's the way you think about it -,"_

"_Merlin, I know that look."_

"_What look?"_

"_The look that says you're going to hold out on me until I apologize or compromise my principles or go insane from wanting you."_

"_Oh come on, I've never asked you to compromise anything."_

"_Apologizing is compromising."_

"_No, apologizing is completely folding. You get so weak when you're sex starved."_

"_That's it. You're cut off!"_

"_What?! You can't cut me off!"_

"_You just watch me."_

"_Se-ver-us. Sev sev sev."_

"_Making a fool of yourself will __**not**__ get you into my pants."_

"_You're asking for it."_

"_No, you're begging for it. And it won't work."_

"_Fine."_

"_Wait. What are you doing?"_

"_Well, if you won't lend a hand, I'll just have to take care of myself."_

"_It's amazing how fast your mind jumps from turtles to wanking."_

"_What happened to 'onanism'?"_

"…"

"_You're drooling."_

"_Damn. Fuck."_

"_Only if we can have a dog."_

"_I'm not caving in over a hypothetical pet."_

"_I think you already caved. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm the one holding out now."_

"_Fine, we'll get a dog." //_

…ooo…ooo…

Severus went on like this for days, reminiscing while refusing to think of the _real_ conversations, the admissions of guilt and weakness on both their parts. They couldn't have filled two years of silence with inconsequential ramblings, even had they truly wanted to. No, Harry had told him all of his dirty secrets. All his vulnerabilities. All of his nightmares. And Severus had done the same, only, now, he refused to think about it. Refused to acknowledge that the one person in the world who really _knew_ him, had forgotten. Severus refused to go down that road, because…well, it would have led to the same thought that he had no matter what he tried to avoid. Without Harry knowing him, and loving him, he may as well not exist. It was that kind of maudlin sentiment that Severus so hated. And so believed.

If Dumbledore had survived the war, he would have sat him down in his office, plied him with tea and lemon drops, and ask why he was doing this to himself. Why not tell Harry what they meant to each other? But Severus knew that no one could understand his reasons. No one could understand what it meant for him to be able to give Harry this. A chance at a normal life. No reminders of that prison, those sporadic nights when they were not ignored, when the Death Eaters grew angry, or anxious, or simply bored, and had come to them in the night, with no wands but enough confidence in their superiority to feel safe. And they had been safe, and Severus and Harry hadn't the strength to fight back for long. But those few beatings weren't the worst of it. The worst was the not knowing, the worry. First for the ones they had left behind, and then for each other, when one would be removed from the cell only to return the next day, or the day after, with no memory of what had been done to them but a knowledge that it had to have been horrible. If Severus had it in his power to spare Harry this, he would do it, no matter the cost to him. He'd be paying the rest of his life, but it was worth it. And besides, he was sparing Harry the burden of loving an old and broken man.

His train of thought was derailed by a knock on his door. Since he'd returned to the castle, he'd been largely left alone, barring Poppy with her incessant nagging. The Headmaster had hired a replacement Potions Master once he'd arrested the man posing as Severus, and since the new professor was competent, and since Severus had made no move to reclaim his post, things had remained as they were. Severus assumed that, sooner rather than later, he'd be asked, tactfully but with a sense of embarrassing urgency, to leave the school. But so far, the Headmistress had left him to his dungeons, the only home he'd known for thirty years, other than that prison cell. And Harry.

"Enter," he called out, reluctantly.

"Professor Snape," Hermione Granger greeted. He hadn't been surprised to learn that his former pupil had taken on the position of Transfiguration professor after Minerva was promoted. She'd always been bright.

"What is it?" Severus asked curtly, reverting to his old self with alarming ease.

"Harry was asking to see you," she answered, a slight frown marring her brow. Yes, bright to a fault.

"Is this a summons?" he asked nastily.

"Remus told me what Harry said to you," she blurted out.

"I have no idea what you're blathering about," he answered with an affected bored drawl, wishing he had an excuse of papers to grade, or any reason to kick Granger out of his rooms, other than the honest reasons.

"He said he loved you. And…well…if your behavior is anything to go by, I'd say that you - ."

"I fail to see how this is any concern of yours," he snarled, desperate to stop her from saying what he felt.

"You should tell him the truth," she went on, voice soft, nauseatingly sympathetic.

"Granger -," he began to warn, but she cut him off.

"No, you should tell him the truth! If you know him half as well as I think you do, then you know how much he needs this."

"He doesn't need _me_."

"He needs love, and family, and people who _see_ him," Hermione insisted.

"And he'd hate you for trying to take that from him."

"Don't presume to know what I feel about Potter," Severus countered ineffectually. "And don't romanticize the situation. A prison cell does not a happy home make. If he had the capacity to remember the details, I'm sure your precious Harry would cringe for having sunk so low."

Hermione stood there, silently fuming, or maybe calculating, by the look in her eyes. After collecting herself, she made towards the door, repeating, "Harry asked for you," before leaving him be.

"He'd never believe me anyway," he said to himself.

…ooo…ooo…

Later that day, Severus was forced to return to the Hospital Wing once again. He would have to continue with this routine for at least a few more days, making his painful way up the stairs of the school, aggravating his wound only to have Poppy patch him up again. In the final battle, a severing charm had neatly amputated his leg, and it was only sheer luck that had landed him in the makeshift infirmary on the edge of the killing field in time for the mediwizards to reattach his limb. What he was left with, now, was a gash about 2 cm thick encircling his upper thigh, and an order from Poppy to come to her for fresh dressings and potions every day.

Entering the infirmary, Severus greeted Harry as he had the past week. A polite nod, because hostility, even if he could have properly managed it, would have been suspicious, given their situation. Sitting down on the closest cot, Severus tried to ignore the feel of Harry's stare on him. But then the blasted boy had to speak.

"I remember a…turtle," Harry squeaked, his voice betraying the blush he was trying to hide.

The only response Severus could manage was a raised eyebrow.

"Was there…a turtle in our cell?" Harry asked.

"No," Severus answered, smiling meanly.

"Oh. Right. Makes sense."

"We did," Severus continued, taking pity on his lover…on Harry, "have a conversation about a turtle, once or twice."

"Really?" Harry asked, bemused. "How did that go?"

"I had a pet turtle when I was a boy," Severus answered reluctantly.

"Really?" Harry grinned.

"Yes. And you were always amused by this, as you are now, apparently," Severus sighed.

"Well, come on. You…and a turtle," Harry laughed quietly.

"Yes, me and a turtle."

"What was its name?" Harry asked.

Severus blinked. Twice. In all of their conversations about the turtle, and there had been a few, as happens when lack of outside stimuli causes a certain strain on conversation, Harry had never asked this question.

"Pickwick."

And then Harry really laughed, loudly and openly. For a few minutes. And then, his eyes shot wide open, and the laughter stopped. "You promised me a dog," he whispered.

"Yes," Severus answered cautiously, uncertain as to how much Harry was remembering, uncertain if he should hope, if he should feel disappointed, or relieved, or grateful. Or anything.

"I guess…I guess we were friends then?" Harry asked, stumbling over the words, ludicrous as they seemed.

Severus was stuck for a response. Could he survive keeping Harry for a friend? Lunches, letters, the occasional visit. Harry asking him for romantic advice, if they were close friends. Harry letting him fade out of his life, if they were not. Could he do that to himself?

"Yes," he answered. "Of a sort."

"Of an unwilling sort?" Harry half-smiled.

"You couldn't afford to be selective," Severus answered with a smirk.

"Let me guess," Harry continued, a true grin on his face now, as if being told they were friends made it so. "You couldn't afford to ignore me?"

"No," Severus smiled. "I couldn't."

…ooo…ooo…

**Day Two**

"How long will you have to come here?" Harry asked him, the following afternoon.

"Barring any unforeseen complications, four more days," Severus answered, pulling the privacy curtain closed around his bed as he removed his trousers and let his outer robe drape back over his bare legs. Opening the curtain once again, he sat on the edge of his bed, cursing himself for being self-conscious in front of Harry once again.

"I see Poppy's removed the restraints," Severus observed with a wry smile. Harry had been magically confined to his bed since a thwarted escape attempt made the week before.

"Yes, I guilted her into it," Harry laughed, stretching his arms high above his head, relishing the freedom of movement. "I pointed out to her that I'd been locked up for two plus years, that more captivity was damaging my fragile system."

"You still are a terrible liar," Severus teased. "Poppy would never fall for that."

"Fine," Harry mock-pouted. "I promised on my Firebolt that I wouldn't move an inch from the bed."

"You don't have the Firebolt."

"Yeah…well…it was the principle of the thing," Harry answered, rolling his eyes, and then rolling over on his side so he could face Severus. "I remembered something else," he announced.

"Indeed?"

"Yes, indeed," Harry mimicked. "You came into the cell bleeding, didn't you?"

"Yes," Severus answered slowly.

"What happened?"

"Can you not imagine?" Severus asked, not relishing the thought of reliving that day to Harry, of all people.

"I can, that's why I need to hear it from you," Harry answered softly.

"I was discovered. It was as simple as that," Severus answered, his voice betraying anger, still, at his failure, no matter what it had won him.

"What happened?" Harry repeated. Severus had the advantage, or disadvantage, of knowing what Harry was so scared of. Another sacrifice, for him. Unfortunately, nothing he could say would assuage that fear.

"You were missing for over a month," Severus answered, voice low and begging Harry to understand. What, he didn't know. That it was an easy thing, trading his life for Harry. That he'd wanted to. But it wasn't true, at the time. At the time, it was his duty and he'd answered it, as that had been the only thing in his life that made him honorable. It had nothing to do with Harry. At the time. "I had followed leads, for weeks, and finally I knew where you were. And I couldn't let go, even when I was sure I'd been compromised. I was so close. And you can wipe that guilt off your face," he added sharply, seeing Harry's face neatly collapse. "It wasn't for you. It was…the hunt."

"What did they do to you?" Harry asked icily.

"Now that you can imagine."

They were silent when Poppy came in and asked Severus to role up his robes. Through the closed screen, Severus concentrated on listening to Harry's movements, rather than looking at his wound. There was a soft rustle of sheets. If Harry had been able to remember the last two years, he would be in heaven, in those sheets. All they'd had was a bare mattress between them, and each other. And, that first year, that hadn't been enough.

"Is there any tenderness?" Poppy asked him.

"Of course," he answered, absently. He could see Harry's silhouette, hear the bed springs, and he wondered, terrified, how much longer he had until Harry remembered. Weeks? Days? What Hermione had said was never far from his mind, and he debated talking to Harry about it. Explaining…what, exactly? How? Maybe a penseive, but that wouldn't make him remember. He would know, but he would not remember, would not feel it. And what good would that do either of them?

"All done," Poppy answered gently, giving him privacy so he could dress, and have a few more minutes alone with Harry.

"Ok?" Harry asked.

"Fine. When will you be allowed out?" Severus already knew the answer, knew every detail of Harry's chart, but he needed to hear his voice, just for a few more minutes, before he returned to the dungeons, as was expected of him.

"Maybe a week. The skull fracture, you know. Hell on my balance."

"Any consideration of what you'll do, after?" Severus asked, then cursed himself for opening that line of conversation, considering that he himself had no idea where his new life would lead.

"Some," Harry shrugged, as if it didn't matter. Severus knew how he felt. He'd served his purpose. What more was he meant to do? "Hermione said she could give me names of contacts in the Ministry, but I know she doesn't want me to be an auror. I'm not sure I want to be, either."

"Quidditch?"

"We'll see," Harry answered noncommittally, though he smiled at the idea. "I may be crap, now."

"I doubt that," Severus answered.

"Are you going back to teaching?" Harry asked, inevitably.

"I've been replaced," he answered flatly.

"Temporarily, I'm sure," Harry countered, with so much conviction it made Severus ache. "I mean, who could replace you? Besides being the best Potions Master in these parts, Hogwarts wouldn't be the same without you around, making everyone's life hell," Harry laughed. "Outside Slytherin," he then added.

"So I'm an institution now, am I?" Severus asked, amused. "Not so long ago, you'd have given anything to have me sacked."

"Well…I…," Harry stammered, so obviously caught. "People can grow up, you know," he finally answered, looking pointedly at Severus, who had grown as well.

"Hmm," Severus replied. "I think I should return to me rooms, Mr. Potter. Have a good day."

…ooo…ooo…

**Day Three**

"There was a window," Harry announced the next morning, once Severus had taken his usual seat.

"If you could call it that," Severus snorted.

"Not a window?" Harry asked, obviously confused. He remembered daylight, and that was all.

"Yes, but the wall of the cell were high, and the window was near the ceiling, and barred. We couldn't look out of it, and it didn't let in much light."

"Still, better than nothing," Harry shrugged.

"I don't know," Severus answered, slowly. "It…gave hope, for something so far away. Out of reach."

"How could hope be bad?" Harry frowned.

"For you? It couldn't," he answered, smiling. "You used to stare at the window half the day. But it drove me mad."

"Why?"

"It reminded me of what we couldn't have," Severus answered. He'd long ago learned how to be honest with Harry. As honest as he could afford to be.

"I…I hit you, once. Didn't I?" Harry blushed.

"Yes," Severus scowled.

"Did you hit back?" he asked, more curiosity in his voice than anger.

"Of course I did," Severus answered. "Typical of your ego not to remember."

"Ah, that's probably why I hit you," Harry muttered. "I bet you went on about my ego, all that stuff about my fame and wanting to be a hero and always failing, didn't you?" he accused, and Severus couldn't help but laugh at the indignation over a hypothetical, if too-realistic argument.

"We did have that fight, but that's not why you hit me," Severus chuckled.

"Then why?"

"I pushed you off the bed."

The blush on Harry's face went straight to Severus's heart. And groin.

"The…oh," was all Harry could say, as if just now aware of how close the two had been, spatially. The crucial awareness that Severus was looking for was still not there when he said goodbye for the day.

**Day Four**

Severus was hurrying to the Hospital Wing an hour early that morning, or trying to on his war-torn leg. Hermione had come to his room minutes earlier, panting for breath and babbling about Harry screaming, Harry shaking, Harry whimpering and calling out for him. So, of course Snape was trying to run, but he didn't quite manage more than a brisk walk, though his heart could attest to a more strenuous pace.

"Harry?" he asked, out of breath, not from the journey but from the pain.

Harry was curled up in his bed, arms wrapped around knees and silent, save for a soft gasp whenever Poppy came close.

"Severus-," Poppy began, obviously torn between the two patients.

"I remember. I remember," Harry whispered, voice hoarse from the screaming.

Severus paled, terrified by Harry's reaction.

"Poppy, could you leave us?" he asked, crossing the room and sitting at the foot of Harry's bed. Poppy hesitated, but seeing that Harry did not react adversely to Severus's proximity, she left them alone with a warning to call her if needed.

"Harry?" Severus repeated, longing to touch him, hold him, bury his face in his neck, bury all of him in all of him, but too frightened to do so.

"I…and Malfoy was -," Harry began, before Severus interrupted him.

"Malfoy?" he snapped. "When did you see him?"

"I…you mean, you don't remember?" Harry asked, finally uncurling enough to look into his face, and the terror there, and then the words, made Severus's heart drop to his stomach. He had never seen Lucius Malfoy. Not once, since they day he was discovered as a spy. Draco had died in the attack that had freed his father from Azkaban, and from that day on, Lucius had made it a mission to discover the traitor in the Death Eaters' ranks. Needless to say, he had succeeded.

"Harry, tell me what happened," Severus softly commanded, his mind running through the hazy battle scenes, trying to catalogue the players. No, Lucius had been taken down surprisingly early, by Bill Weasley. He'd never gotten close enough to hurt Harry. And the only time in their years together that Harry had left his sight were those few nights…and then, Severus could swear his heart stopped beating.

"There was…light," Harry answered. "Small fires, all over the room. They glinted off masks, off a throne. Hissing, laughter. Words. You know what words," he said, staring into Severus's eyes. "But then, everything stopped, and we were alone. And he…I didn't want to, but he tied me down," Harry sobbed, not sure why he needed to apologize, why he felt as if he'd been unfaithful, but crying for it just the same. And Severus wanted to hold him and tell him it wasn't his fault, that it would be ok, that he was ok, but he couldn't. Couldn't see past the reddening rage.

"That fucking bastard," he snarled, standing abruptly, throwing open the door with a load crash, slamming it closed again and howling all the hatred he had before slamming his fist into the wall, hearing first the breaking bones and then the gasps of Hermione Granger, who had been sitting in the hall, crying from worrying for Harry, and now for him.

"Go hold him," Severus instructed her hoarsely. "Go gentle, but he'll tell you what he needs."

He turned to walk away, but she reached out to stop him. He shook her off, saying only that he'd be back in the morning.

…ooo…ooo…

Once he'd reached his room, he poured himself a shot with his good hand, and, for the first time in weeks, tried to remember.

_// "Harry? God, Harry, wake up!"_

"_I'm awake. Shh…it's ok."_

"_What did they do?"_

"_You know I can't remember."_

"_Do you feel…how do you feel?"_

"_Dizzy. And…sore. When did we…"_

"_Yesterday morning."_

"_Oh. Well, maybe that's it. It was you."_

"_Harry -,"_

"_No, it was you. There's never been anyone else. There won't be. Understand?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Good. They just…they probably just cursed me a few times. Maybe kicked me in the head. And you know me, head made of solid oak. So, it's fine."_

"_Harry."_

"_Did you have a nice night at least?"_

"_Oh, yes. I so value my privacy, you know."_

"_Severus. Shh…you're ok. I know how you feel but…it'll stop. It's stopped, because I'm back and breathing and holding you. Feel that?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Good. Feel free to feel back."_

"_Incorrigible."_

"_You know you love it."_

"_Oh, I suppose." //_

That had been Week 74.

…ooo…ooo…

**Day Five**

"I can't believe you let this go all night," Poppy whispered harshly at him as she mended his broken hand. Harry was still sleeping and they did not want to risk a silencing charm. He might wake up alone and terrified.

"I was self-medicating," Severus answered.

"I know what kind of 'self-medicating' you do, Severus Snape, and it is the last thing you need," she spit out.

"Poppy, how is he?" he asked, gesturing towards Harry's bed.

"Shaken, but recovering," she answered.

"No lasting harm from the…from the rapes?" he asked.

"You think there's been more than one?" she asked, and he knew that she was certain there had been. Seeing the look on his face, she dropped the act. "There was some tearing, but it was healed shortly after each assault, and his memory erased. I'm not entirely sure how he can remember the incident with Malfoy at all."

"Neither am I," Severus admitted. "Every time we were taken out of the cell, we could never remember what had happened."

"We?" Poppy asked. "Perhaps I should give you a more thorough examination."

Severus considered refusing outright, but then he thought of Harry, feeling alone in this violence. In this rape. When really, he felt like he'd been violated as well. That something had been taken from him. Maybe…maybe if he had been taken as well, he'd been taken to the same place as Harry. And they'd be together in this, two broken men put back together because they were not mending alone.

"You've had…there are signs of intercourse," Poppy concluded, when they were done.

"Did it look forced?" Severus asked, trying to ignore the measuring look on Poppy's face.

"There is sign of healed trauma," she clarified. If she suspected anything, she kept it to herself as she left the wing, giving her patients privacy.

An hour later, Harry awoke.

"Are you alright?" was the first thing he said, and Severus nearly cried. This was the man that had loved him, there before him. Saying things that man would have said. Only, he didn't know what it meant to say them.

"I'm fine," Severus answered gruffly. "Are you?"

"Yes," Harry answered, though he seemed unsure. "It was long ago, wasn't it?"

"I can't be sure exactly," Severus admitted. It could have been a year ago, but who knew how often it had happened after that one night.

"They separated us?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

"Good," he answered.

"No, it was hell," Severus whispered. "You can't imagine."

They were silent for a few minutes, Harry, no doubt, trying to imagine.

"Were you…"

"Yes," Severus answered, trying to hide, and to understand, the relief he felt for being able to say 'yes'.

"Was it Malfoy?"

"I can't remember," Severus answered. "You shouldn't be able to, either."

"I wonder why," Harry asked. "You'd think that'd be the point, so that we'd know what they did."

Severus conceded the point. It was unlike a rapist to spare his victim's their memory of him. Unless they were afraid of being caught.

"I don't think we'll ever understand the entire situation," he answered slowly. "Why we were allowed to live. Why we were allowed to forget."

"Either way," Harry answered quietly, "they had that power, didn't they? It's just as bad, knowing it was their choice."

"Hmm."

"Hermione told me how you…reacted, the other day," Harry said cautiously, glancing at the wrapping around Severus's hand. "It's not your fault or anything."

"I never thought it was, Potter," Severus answered, eyebrow raised in what he hoped translated as amusement.

"Oh. Then why?"

"I couldn't tell you," Severus answered, before excusing himself for the day.

**Day Six**

It was the last day that Severus would have an excuse to visit the Hospital Wing, and Harry. Of course, given how the past few days had gone, it wouldn't seem imprudent for him to visit Harry, his…friend. But that didn't make this day any easier, nor did the lack of sleep due to painful dreams. Happy dreams, of Harry under and above him, of Harry's skin and sweat, of Harry being his and, more importantly, he being Harry's. But these dreams, blessing while he lived them, stung when he opened his eyes, turned on his side, and found the absence. The cold side of the bed, the smooth sheets. The lack of hope that Harry had simply woken early, and gone to that spot in the corner where he liked best to sit and look out the window, or at him. What was it he had called them, himself and the window? "My only hopes of escape." Severus's only hope of escape was lying in the Hospital Wing, and would sooner remember a rapist than his former lover. And Poppy wondered why he 'self-medicated'.

Severus passed Hermione in the hall as he walked towards the Hospital Wing, his limp far less pronounced and the point of reattachment nearly healed. Hermione grinned at him as he walked by, an expression disconcerting but oddly comforting. In the past, he'd gone out of his way to hurt the girl, just as he had with the rest of the Golden Trio. He'd had his reasons, petty though they were, and now, feeling he had his reasons to wish for more from the two survivors, he was glad to know that there was hope for a friendship between himself and Miss Granger. And Harry, if that was all he could have. He'd take anything, at this point.

Entering the Hospital Wing, he was thrown off by the way Harry was turned away from him, silent. He said good morning nonetheless, and allowed Poppy to fuss over him, declaring him fit before leaving them to it.

"Harry?" Severus asked, knowing something was wrong, and likely that it was him.

"You promised you'd remember," Harry said, turning, his eyes on Severus and welling.

"I didn't forget," Severus answered quietly, absently running his hand over the bandage on his leg, wishing he still had pain to distract him from this.

"But you wanted me to?" Harry demanded, sounding both hurt and angry.

"It wasn't my choice," Severus snapped. "What would you have had me done, Harry? Calmly explain to you that you fell in love with your greasy Potions master? What could I have done?"

"Not given up on me," Harry answered angrily, tears pouring down his face and accusing Severus of crimes immeasurable. "Christ, Severus! What have you been doing all this time, when you leave here? Sitting alone, drinking in your dungeon and thanking God that you got rid of me so easily?"

"There was nothing easy about it!" Severus shouted, rising from his bed only to wince at the pain of standing suddenly. But he stayed upright, because it was too easy to fall. "How could you think I wanted this? How could you think I relished being forgotten by the one person alive who knows me? But you did, and I couldn't…"

He couldn't go on. Like he couldn't go on speaking, so he buried his face in his hands, a gesture that spoke volumes. It spoke of the weariness of his body, of his heart. It spoke of the helplessness he'd felt ever since they'd been "freed". But most of all, it spoke of the absolute trust he had in Harry, to be able to be human in front of him. And Harry heard every word that Severus couldn't say.

"You do remember, don't you?" he asked softly.

"Yes," Severus answered.

"Then tell me?"

"You love me."

"Yes."

Severus didn't know what he would have said in return. Remus Lupin saved him from having to decide.

"Severus," Remus greeted, a genuine smile on his face as he came into the Hospital Wing and found the two men he'd been looking for.

"Lupin," Severus returned in kind, refusing to change his ways simply because the werewolf had saved his life once or twice.

"Harry," Remus went on, moving towards Harry's side. "I would have visited sooner, but we've been busy with the fallout."

"It's fine," Harry smiled, finally tearing his eyes away from Severus. "How are you? How are…things?"

Severus took this chance and left the room. This time, he was certain that Harry called out for him.

**Day Seven**

Severus was still in bed when the knocking started at his door. He hid himself under the covers, laughed at his cowardice, and pretended to go to sleep.

An hour later, the knocking resumed. But still, he did not answer. He was waiting for something in particular, though he didn't know what. All night, he'd been awake and thinking about this day, when he'd have Harry loving him again. And he'd been wondering why it terrified him so, when he'd been so terrified that Harry could never love him again. All he'd come up with so far was that he'd lied not to protect Harry, as he'd thought, but to protect himself. But it was ridiculous, he knew, because nothing about the past dragging days had been a comfort, or even bearable. He hadn't felt safe, or sane, whole or warm, since Lupin had rescued them from that cell. Maybe he was waiting for Lupin to come, so he could tear out his heart and see how he liked it.

His chance came only a few minutes later. The knocking on his door had stopped, and soon a commotion in the drawing room followed. It was Lupin, stepping through the fireplace and then coming into Severus's bedroom, not bothering to knock.

"What are you doing?" Remus asked Severus, who would have thought it was obvious.

"Training for the World Cup," Severus sneered, half-heartedly. "The more important question, Lupin, is what are YOU doing?"

"I'm trying to understand why you're hiding," Remus answered. "He loves you."

"You're not the first person to remind me of this. Why did you tell Granger, Lupin? Wanted her to keep Harry safe from me?"

"I wanted her to keep you safe from yourself," Remus answered calmly. Severus hated him for that ability. He'd lost all his control, somewhere along the road back to this dungeon.

"I fail to see how this is any concern of yours," Severus replied.

"I know what it's like to be left behind," he answered softly.

"Spare me," Severus muttered cruelly. But Remus took it in stride, as he always did.

"Harry is going to be released from the Hospital Wing after dinner tonight. I just wanted you to know that," Remus said, and then he left.

Harry didn't come to him until well after dinner, his knock hesitant on his door. Severus hated it, the reminder that they'd been apart.

"All better," Harry greeted, shy smile on his face.

"We'll see," Severus answered, ushering Harry into his quarters.

"It's nice in here," Harry said after some time. "Not as green as I'd imagined."

"I've never been fond of that color," Severus answered.

Harry turned to face him, to look into his eyes with those emerald pools. "Of course, there are some exceptions," Severus added, smiling at how well Harry had trained him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Harry asked, sitting down on the sofa.

"What?"

"Sit with me," Harry said, patting the seat beside him. "About how you felt?"

"Not really," Severus answered, sitting tightly against Harry's side, trying not to sigh at the relief of it.

"I didn't mean to forget you," Harry whispered, resituating himself until he was straddling Severus's lap and burying his face in Severus's neck. His words were warm and moist against his skin, his elbows digging into his ribcage.

"I'm sorry," Severus choked out, wrapping his arms tight around Harry. "I love you."

"I remember," Harry answered, smiling into Severus's throat.

Severus's hands were working their way up Harry's shirt, kneading his back, needing his skin.

"I remember that, too," Harry gasped, arching into the touch.

"Remember this," Severus commanded, before claiming Harry's mouth with his, licking and nipping at his lips before driving his tongue into that answering heat, drinking from Harry as if he was dying of thirst. "Remember this always," he panted, when he was forced to come up for air.

"You're so warm," Harry moaned, cradling Severus's face in his hands as he gently kissed his forehead, his eyelids, his mouth.

"You've come to me deep in my thawing," Severus answered, holding Harry to him even harder. "Merlin, I missed you," he sighed, cursing himself for trembling.

"I'm here," Harry assured him.

Severus didn't try to suppress his growl. All he knew was that he needed Harry inside of him again, he needed him there always. His mind didn't register Harry's yelp of surprise when he picked the young man up and carried him to the bed, threw him down, tugged his pants down roughly, knelt between his legs, curled his arms under his thighs, up his back, his hands looping around to rest on his sides, and took Harry's cock in his mouth. He'd never been able to do this before, but this night, he couldn't feel anything stopping him, no pain in his jaw, no involuntary urge to retch. All he felt was a driving need to swallow Harry whole, to have all of him inside him and to never let go again. He couldn't even feel Harry there, silky hardness against the back of his throat. Couldn't taste the saline sweet of him. Couldn't hear his moans, his gasps of Severus's name, his curses about the intensity of it all, the pleads to stop before it ended too soon. All Severus was aware of was this gaping hole in his chest cavity slowly being filled again. Then he was aware of a sharp taste in his mouth, and of swallowing. And finally, he heard his name being called, and he reluctantly took his heart from out his mouth.

"Severus," Harry was panting. "I'm here, Severus."

"Not enough," Severus answered, voice hoarse and wincing over the ache in his jaw.

"What do you need?" Harry asked, stripping them both as he spoke.

"I need you inside me, Harry," Severus answered.

"God," Harry gasped. He hadn't thought he'd ever be able to come again, after what Severus had just done to him, but hearing the need in his lover's voice, and remembering what Severus's face looked like when he was buried in him, his head flying back, eyes shut tight and mouth open and begging for him, was enough to get him hard again. "Please."

Severus lay back on the bed, more aware of Harry now that his immediate need had been satisfied. He gloried in all the bare skin in his bed. Before, in their cell, they'd both been wary of disrobing completely, conscious of eyes on them always. Severus had trained himself to see it as a delicious tease, all those quick glimpses of flesh as clothes were shifted according to their needs. But now, he was looking at Harry, and being looked at, and the openness made him want even more. He would gladly flay himself for Harry if his lover only asked.

"Do you have anything?" Harry asked, running his hands over Severus's legs, his thighs.

"Don't care," Severus answered, hissing at the contact. "Harry, I love you, please," he keened.

"I don't want to hurt you," Harry frowned.

"You can't," Severus answered, spreading his legs in a silent demand for action. It came, but not in the form he wanted. Instead, fingers began filling him, stretching him for the infinite heaven he wanted to receive. "Harry, in me," he gasped, near incoherence for the wanting. So many days, he'd been wanting, while being too afraid to want. It had been tearing him apart, and now he needed Harry to close the wound.

"I am," Harry whispered, thrusting into Severus harder to prove it, and this was something Severus finally felt. He felt Harry's cock in him, felt Harry's fingers on his hips, felt Harry's lips pecking at his neck, felt Harry's sweat falling on his chest. He felt Harry all around him, and he came so hard that all that awareness was stripped of him, pushed back into a hazy comfort painted by Harry's panting and pulsing and promising to be there with him forever.

**Epilogue**

"Down, Magwitch! Off the furniture!" he could hear Harry shout as he entered the house through the kitchen door.

"He needs training," a woman laughed. Hermione Granger, early for her visit.

"He listens to Severus," Harry grumbled.

"Naturally," another man laughed gently. Ah, Remus was here as well.

"Of course," Severus greeted, finally going into the sitting room to greet Harry, and his guests.

"Good day?" Harry asked, scowling at the terrier once more before going to properly greet Severus with a firm hug.

"It is now," Severus answered, returning Harry's embrace before turning to put his papers away. The evening was spent talking about classes, Harry's Quidditch schedule, about future weekends, dinner plans and the like. Severus and Harry smiled at their friends and each other, silently promising to remember this as home.


End file.
